


Men of Legends

by chucks_prophet



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Anachronisms, Baby Hunters, Brotherly Affection, Crossover, Episode: s4e01 The Virgin Gary, Gen, Ghouls, Humor, Kid Winchesters (Supernatural), Season/Series 04, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 10:29:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16448192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: The boy cries for his parents. Mick’s the first to react, whipping out his gun. He blasts the thing with a fiery headshot. But when the flames die down, revealing her unchanged, horrifying face, the Legends—again, except Mick, who is furious—charge full-speed.“Hey!”Every head snaps to the new voice, even the senior zombie, revealing a boy not much older than the one she releases. This one’s dressed as Batman, and can’t be over four feet tall. And yet, he makes the bold decision to splay out his arms and bite back, “Eat me, Granny!”





	Men of Legends

“Um... where are we? And why did I just get told off by a three-foot Superman?” Zari asks, doing everything in her power not to snatch the boy’s cape. He’s flying at the speed of his hefty feet, throwing caution to the wind and anyone else standing between him and the evil neighborhood candy hoarders.

“Omaha,” Sara responds, a smile playing at her face. Flooded by masked children and screams of delighted terror, the night-stricken community sings to the tune of Halloween. “Sleepy little town called Bennington. And it’s Halloween. Do you guys not have Halloween in 2042?”

“No. Trump banned it during his second term. A tweet blew up of this kid wearing a suit with a pumpkin head covered in Joker scribbles and a tacky toupee. He called it ‘the worst hate crime in history, ever’.”

“Did you say Nebraska?” Mick grunts. “I hate Nebraska.”

“Why?” asks Zari.

“Because, they get drunk off vegetable puke and make out with trees.”

“And they apparently love their horror films...” Nate glances around, taking in every Michael Myers and Pennywise costume. “What year was this again?”

“1991,” answers Sara.

“We obviously haven’t evolved in originality since.”

“Alright, focus, if I was a giant, supernatural anachronism, where would I be hiding?”

“Well if you were a ghost, plain sight,” says Ray, earning disgruntled noises from Zari and Mick. He shrugs. “What? It’s true. I, however, am a firm believer in biology. Ghosts can’t exist without the proper coding.”

“Mate, we just defeated a giant rainbow unicorn with hallucinogenic bile,” John throws back quicker than the lid on his aluminum lighter. He waits until he’s taken a drag from his cigarette, watching through slit eyes as the thin white smoke, like ribbon, unravels when it hits the night air. “ _You_ made a suit that shrinks you into a shoe thorn. Biology is basically the first edition of the Bible at this point.”

“Fair assessment.”

Just then, a chorus of screaming children ignites the quiet night. The Legends snap their heads, and to their horror, find… a really convincing zombie two houses over. Everyone sighs. Except Mick, whose forehead vein has taken on a personality of its own. “I _hate_ Halloween.”

“I thought you’d like Halloween,” Nate pipes up. “You know, with the whole stealing candy and defacing private property thing.”

“You can’t steal something you’re _given,”_ Mick grumbles. “And vandalism is for counterculture punks.”

Before anyone else can chime in, another set of screams sets them on high alert. This time, it’s children and adults alike—even the zombie across the street’s trembling his prosthetic skin off. That’s because a zombie, a _real_ zombie, of an elderly woman is parading the street. Looking as white as something borne of Constantine’s filthy habit, she roams the small area with arms outstretched and half a face—the other half-caved in like a deflated basketball. She looks weak, but the grip she gets on the ten-year-old in the Mario costume is a strong one.

The boy cries for his parents. Mick’s the first to react, whipping out his gun. He blasts the thing with a fiery headshot. But when the flames die down, revealing her unchanged, horrifying face, the Legends—again, except Mick, who is furious—charge full-speed. 

“Hey!”

Every head snaps to the new voice, even the senior zombie, revealing a boy not much older than the one she releases. This one’s dressed as Batman, and can’t be over four feet tall. And yet, he makes the bold decision to splay out his arms and bite back, “Eat me, Granny!”

The monster has no objections to this. She releases little Mario and lurches forward with a gurgling laugh. The Legends toss glances at each other as if one of them will have an answer aside from throwing her ass into an undead nursing home.

“John?” Sara pleads, “Little help here?”

John, to everyone’s surprise, is blissfully unaffected by the situation. He just taps the ashes from his cigarette and grins. “I should’ve known.”

“Should’ve known what? What’s—?!”

The boy brushing past her wielding a machete knife is the silent answer to her question. He too is just as cocky as the boy taunting the morgue-fresh lady. He comes up behind her, slices her neck clean through, and, as her deformed head meets the asphalt, retorts, “Turns out Mrs. Wilkins really was a Maneater.”

Then, like it’s just a blown-out tire in the middle of the road, he steps over the body to pull little Nightwing into a hug. “Good job, Sammy.”

To the Legends surprise, the crowd breaks into applause.

They probably thought it was a show—a neat, little supernatural _Gunsmoke_ reenactment for Halloween.

The two boys raise their eyebrows, equally surprised while still basking in the glory. It’s obvious this isn’t their first kill, and that they don’t usually get this kind of reception.

When everyone fans out, the older boy gestures with his knife at the Legends, who are fully decked out. “Who’re you guys supposed to be?” Then, to Ray: “You know Ant-Man already has a suit, right?”

Ray opens his mouth to speak, but Mick cuts him off: “Is that a Steve McQueen costume?”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“I like your style, kid.”

“We’re... um…” Nate mumbles, “we were supposed to—”

“It’s no charge,” the eldest boy, who hasn’t even hit puberty yet, interrupts, “it’s kinda what we do. We would’ve been stealthier if Sam didn’t shoot the ugly undead bastard with silver.”

“Everyone’s alive, aren’t they?”

“Wait, you two... you’re...?”

“The Winchesters,” John finishes for Sara. “Sam and Dean Winchester.”

“How do you know them?”

“Seconded,” Dean comments, tightening his grip on his machete, which now rests against the side of his leg.

“You’re bloody legends,” John breathes. It’s the first time Sara’s seen him awestruck. It’s unbecoming on him. “I’ve been to Hell and back a dozen and a half times, and your name doesn’t fall on chewed-off ears. You’re like bitcoin down there. No one really knows why you two were chosen to lead the demon market—just that you’re worth something big.”

Dean just guffaws: “I’d say one too many sangrias got to your friend’s head.”

“I told you!” Mick exclaims. “Nebraskans and their fruity red drinks.”

“They’re from Kansas,” John corrects.

“What?!” Mick and Sara exclaim in unison.

“Are we gonna go to Hell, Dean?” Sam asks. His voice is puny compared to the powerhouse of confidence the Legends witnessed moments ago. He sounds like a real kid, scared of imaginary monsters. Except, in their world, monsters exist. And so does Hell. Both Sara and John have had _MTV Cribs-_ worthy tours of Hell.

Dean rests a hand on his little brother’s shoulder and says, with such conviction that leaves little wiggle room for doubt, “No. Not on my watch, anyway.”

Sara looks to John, whose tranquility has slipped away at that avowal.

“Well... thanks for taking care of the anachronism, boys,” Sara interjects. “Keep up the good work.”

“Anything for you, beautiful,” Dean responds with a wink. “Except, what’s an anacrisism?”

The Legends are just left to gape at each other again.

“Dean, can we go back to trick or treating?” Sam’s querulous voice cuts in. Again, he sounds like a normal kid, and that warms Sara’s heart. “You promised no hunting tonight.”

“That was before a ghoul crashed apple pie suburbia, but yes, no more. I promise.” He bids a wave to the Legends. Sam does too, only because he knows it’ll get him candy sooner. “See you guys later.”

“Um… what just happened?” Zari scoffs.

“I think we got upstaged by two kids,” Nate responds, giving a dispirited Ray a supportive shoulder pat.

“They’re good blokes,” John remarks. To add to the Legends’ list of surprises tonight, he flings his cigarette onto the pavement and crushes it with his boot. “They’ll make even finer men... even when they leg over the world a few times in the process.”

“Sound like a team we know?” Ray notes with a small smile. Sara returns it.

 “Alright everyone,” she announces, “back to the Waverider.”


End file.
